


My Future Past Is You

by TomarryHereWeGoAgain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Grey Harry is Grey, I don't really know where this is going but I like it, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Not like crazy tho, Sane Tom Riddle, Slytherin Harry Potter, The Deathly Hallows, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2020-06-02 10:16:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19439407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomarryHereWeGoAgain/pseuds/TomarryHereWeGoAgain
Summary: When Harry Potter finds himself sent back in time, he settles on the surname Evans. He applies himself, especially after the Sorting Hat places him in Slytherin. He grows a reputation.The White Knight of Slytherin, they say. Freinds to all but his own house. The Slytherins are unable to look past his Muggleborn name. Are unable to do anything about him because of his magical prowess.And Tom Riddle wants. He wants as though he had never wanted for anything before. But Harry doesn't make it easy on him.Where's the fun in that?





	1. Just Another Day In 1942.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is a warm boi.

****Over the past five years at Hogwarts, the sight of the Black Lake always remained something of a comfort. The seasons came and went, but the lake itself seemed trapped in time, never changing and reassuringly familiar. Even after the Triwizard Tournament, Harry found himself entirely at ease in its company, and its deceptive, calm waters laying guard to some of Hogwarts more dangerous residents. A depth to it beyond that of water and land.

All the more so was Harry sure this to be the case now that he was a prisoner in the 1940s. The still waters hadn't changed in the years to come, even Hogwarts herself was distinctly different. From her very air to her classes and the faces wandering her halls, but the Black Lake was a being entirely its own.

It was precisely this reason that Harry had taken to sitting by the sandy edges of its waters since arriving. He hadn't had much a chance to lax by the lake in his own time, fighting and training for a war most likely something to do with that. But here, in this time, with its battles that have nothing to do with Harry, he finds himself able to spend breaks in more quiet moments like this. Surprisingly peaceful, pensive sort of moments.

His troubles, though, are far from gone. " _Debatably_ ," Harry thinks to himself, " _this is the most trouble I've ever been in._ " Which was concerning, to say the least. Harry, after all, had been through quite some tricky, troublesome situations.

But he was undoubtedly living the most he ever had while here in the 40s. And it was more than the weight of war lifting from his shoulders or the sudden knowledge that everyone he lost would be alive once again in a few decades. It was like Harry could be _just Harry_. Something he always said he was, yet yearned to be. He knew more than anyone that he was never _just_ Harry, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the Boy-Who-Lied, Gryffindor's Golden Boy, the leader of the Golden Trio, he was always something else. Some new moniker that shoved all Harry really was deeper into himself.

The 40s didn't know of the Harry to come, only the Harry of now. And the Harry of now was a blunt, stubborn, quick to stand up for his beliefs— _Slytherin_. He scoffed, remembering it. If the Sorting Ceremony for this time wasn't in the top five most significant shocks of his life, following Finding Out He Was A Wizard, Time Travelling To 1942, Becoming A Triwizard Champion and Realising He Could Speak To Snakes, in that order, then he would eat a flobberworm.

" _Four years of being a bloody Gryffindor and you would think the barmy Hat would finally let it go._ " Harry, out of his element and time, had just shrugged, accepted that this was all happening and there was nothing Harry could do to stop it. Though the long chat with the Hat certainly raised some brows and caused some lingering, contemplative stares that he could have probably done without. Especially after his unfortunate entrance to the past.

In fate's defence, if he had any choice in where and how he'd end up in the past, it probably would have gone equally as bad.

The first year Divination class he had suddenly existed into got a real kick out of it though.

But therein lays the reason for his current (past?) troubles. There were an alarming amount of questions Harry, coming from the future and decidedly not very well read on most historical events, couldn't answer. The Where, Who, How and Why was all impossible, and he couldn't even think about tackling the When of his little problem. The professors seemed happy enough to make excuses and answers for him, though. Asking questions and receiving Harry's blank shock was sufficient for them.

The murmurs of Grindelwald and Accidental Apperation and a sudden shift in the war to English soil had all flown well over his head. But he did something very rare and kept his mouth shut. Happily letting the adults around him handle his new forming backstory and still dead on displaying the appropriate amount of grief and emptiness for his new heartbreaking situation. Realising he was in the past, unable to help stop his war and see his friends helped fuel that.

The students of Hogwarts, on the other hand, were much less easily convinced.

Never underestimate the curiosity of children.

Especially when those children were Slytherins.

Harry wasn't readily accepted into his new House. His year was starting _spectacularly_. He had given his mother's last name, Evans when the current Headmaster Dippet fished for some identification. Not wanting to completely mess with the past considering some Potter's were alive, his grandparents is a whole other topic he doesn't even want to think about, he thought it best to remain unconnected to any prominent Wizarding Households. His quick thinking saved him from some, no doubt uncomfortable, talks about bastard children. But it also put him in some hot water with the Slytherins. His new Housemates got caught somewhere between mild to extreme disgust, suspicion and curiosity for the enigma of a 5th-year transfer student.

But then, of course, there was Riddle.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Childmort, as Harry has so _lovingly_ taken to calling Riddle in his head.

Childmort was in a league of his own. He was treating Harry with interest beyond what was appropriate, surely. It baffled Harry. He had no idea what he had done to be so interesting; he was as dull as possible. Sure there was the occasional disagreement with some members in the House, and sure he had taken to ignoring Riddle and all his gross oozing fake-ness. And yeah okay, he was quickly becoming a straight O student since arriving here.

Because who would have guessed that a not insane Voldemort world and a desperate need to find a way back to his time would result in so much of his attention placed in a couple of hundred different books on theory and other things he accidentally found fascinating and couldn't put down?

Harry couldn't have guessed, that was for sure. Hermione would probably cry. Ron too, but for different reasons.

Maybe Harry could understand a little. Riddle had this weird collection habit that reminded him strongly of their Potions Professor, Slughorn. But instead of a SlugClub, Childmort had something whispers in the halls were calling the Knights of Walpurgis. A collection of impressive students from impressive families, mostly from Slytherin but a few from other Houses. Harry had a sinking feeling it was version 0.1 of the Death Eaters and didn't want to deal with that mess even with a 2-metre pole.

So when one very uncomfortable Fraser Avery approached Harry two months into his disaster of a situation, on Halloween Day no less, Harry couldn't say he was surprised. He also couldn't suppress his hysterical laughter at the fact that Childmort of all people wanted to collect him, Harry bloody Potter, to be a member of his angst Dark Arts teen club that will one day happily go off and start a war and try to kill him more times than he was willing to count.

Of course, this was a poor move on Harry's part, and he should have expected the several hexes and curses that came his way. He was a formidable Duelist on all accounts, but even Harry knew he should have had some decorum and not laughed out right at what was considered to be high praise of an offer in the _Slytherin Common Room_. Hermione would have had a cow and promptly healed him, and Ron may have high-fived him if they were around.

But they weren't.

Which was how Harry ended up here at the Black Lake yet again. Considerably worse for wear than the other times he had come seeking sanctuary. But if anyone would ask he would give a bold grin and say " _You should see the other five_ ," and leave it at that.

His healing prowess was shoddy at best, a few Episkeys and a simple Tergeo could only get him so far. He would need to see Madam Klatskin eventually though he was dreading it. Out of all the Professors, Healer Klatskin seemed to want to mother Harry to an extreme; he wasn't used to it.

Harry sighed, his elbows on his bent knees as he stared out across the water. His wand was still in his hand, and the adrenaline hadn't quite died down yet, the nervous tick of energy kept him twirling it. Harry wanted to chew on his lip or bite the inside of his cheek to help calm him down, but his jaw hurt something awful, and he couldn't feel his legs at the moment, so jogging the tension off was out of the question.

" _Damn Riddle. He wasn't even there to see me turn him down, couldn't even bother asking me to join his creepy club himself_." Harry snorted at the thought, it sent a jolt of pain to the left side of his chest, but the pain was worth it at the idea of what Riddle's face might look like. Harry could picture it, when Childmort finds out that Harry had taken down five of his Knights at once and was still able to walk away, after telling him "no" in the rudest way possible. Riddle may need to look into some meditation to get through this one.

The careful silence of the lake had amplified the sound of slow rustling through the fallen leaves. Harry's attention was quickly brought to the direction of the castle, expecting a student or professor seeking him out. He was missing the Halloween Feast at the moment because Harry wasn't keen on finding out if the hostile tension had died down during a very public dinner. The Slytherins must be rubbing off on him, their "it stays in the House" mentality.

So Harry was genuinely surprised when no person was making their way toward him, but a snake. It was striking. The intense black colour of its scales didn't do well blending in with the Autumn palette surrounding it, but in the setting sun, the bold black was even more. Highlighted by a barely visible opalescent that could only be genuinely seen during times of the evening or early morn when the light was just right. In a brief moment of unsuspicious thinking, Harry felt the snake strongly reminded him of the Black Lake.

Harry had seen it around Hogwarts a few times, and when he couldn't see it, he heard it complaining about cramped classrooms, annoying hatchlings and cold dungeons. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the snake was Riddle's or had some connection to him, so he made sure to avoid it and ignore its hisses. But the snake had other plans.

§ _There you are hatchling. My Master has been searching for you. You will stay put; he approaches._ § The snake raised it's head on to Harry's elbow, successfully climbing its way up and around to the top of his shoulders. He briefly considered ripping his outer robe off and running straight into the Forbidden Forest, but Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. The snake seemed kind enough and kept mumble hissing about how warm he was and how foolish its Master had been not to check here first when Harry so often smelt of fresh water and open air.

Harry sighed and much like his experience with the Hat, accepted that there was no way out of this. His Potter Luck wouldn't allow it.

He was also slightly curious to see if Childmort himself had come looking for him.

§ _Master, the hatchling is here_.§ It perked up, sensing the presence that was its Master. Harry was already looking exasperated as the snake's tongue shot out to scent his cheek. § _You have blood on your cheek Hatchling. You were very strong in the Duel. I had watched it from my place by the fire. You would be a suitable Mate for my Master_.§ Harry whipped around to face the snake head on when it said that, evident panic in his eyes, but he had enough control to keep his mouth shut, especially when the sounds of leaves crushing underfoot were too close to ignore.

"She won't attack you, Evans, she listens to me. No need to look so scared."

And there he was —Childmort in the flesh. Harry glanced up to cool grey eyes and a natural, almost smug smile. If Harry were a weaker man, he would punch Riddle in his very punchable pretty face.

' _Pretty? What am I thinking about?_ '

The scoff came tumbling out before he could stop himself. "Scared of a snake, Riddle? I live in a dorm of them; I have no time to be afraid."

"Good," Riddle plopped down on the sandy edge beside Harry. It was almost impossible to think the word _plop_ in association with the young Dark Lord, but nothing else felt more right. Yet Riddle was much too close in Harry's opinion, and it almost made him scowl irritably. Though, he had a feeling Riddle would only use that against him if he mentioned it aloud. "She rather likes you, and it would be a shame to have to tell her you were frightened of her."

"Does she now?" Harry's sceptical look only seemed to amuse Childmort further, his sharp smile fit right at home with his glinting gaze.

Riddle gave a careful, elegant nod. "Oh yes, Danh doesn't find you nearly as annoying as the others in our House. She also insists your bed is the warmest." Harry's well-crafted air of indifference he fought hard to perfect never seemed to last long in Riddle's company. He felt the moment his right eye twitched violently, and frown took over his features.

"She's been sleeping in my bed?" The snake, Danh apparently, reached out from Harry's shoulders. Almost as if she were turning her attention to chastise Riddle for telling her secrets. Her slight head bobbing up and down, tongue racing out of her mouth.

§ _Master, you favour the hatchling more than I. This hatchling would make a good Mate, powerful and warm, this one will do nicely during the winter. I approve_.§ It took all of Harry's willpower and novice Occlumency to smooth out his features to an innocent frustrated confusion. The only tell? How tight the grip on his wand became. Harry was sure he could snap it in half with how wildly he was internally freaking out.

What in Merlin's name was this snake going on about? Mate as in friend? If that's the case, this snake was going to be very disappointed and cold during the winter because there was no way he and Riddle were becoming _friends_ anytime soon. Or ever. He had meant ever.

Riddle glanced at Harry for a moment before giving his reply, § _He does not like me and wouldn't take kindly to my sudden claiming him. This is a battle best fought slowly, and I don't want to push him away._ §

Claiming him? Oh, hell no. Harry was at his breaking point.

"Why are you here, _Riddle_?" Harry said his name like venom dripping from his clenched teeth. "Haven't you and your goons done enough today? Does your snake need to harass me too?"

"Goons? That's hardly fair, Evans. And it was not my intentions for any hostility. I've been meaning to reach out to you myself in hopes of asking you to join an... _after hours club_ , of sorts. We have a meeting after Slughorn’s soiree. Sadly, my free time earlier was taken from me by last-second Perfect Duties. I would have asked you myself, and surely we would have avoided any of the...incidents that took place earlier."

"You're saying if you had come up to me and asked me to join your... _club_ , yourself and I had laughed directly at your face. You wouldn't have hexed or cursed me out of pure frustration and rage for not getting your way?" Harry stared incredulously, a single eyebrow arching well into the messy fringe of his hair. There's no way Riddle thought Harry believed that for even a second. It wasn't possible. Harry refused to accept such a reply wouldn't be met with anger, especially from Lord Childmort.

"Of course," a far too charming smile graced his face. "I would never do anything so public. But I'm sure we can come to an agreement on the matter somehow. There must be something I can offer to persuade your interest."

Harry paused for a moment. Knowing Riddle, he would probably start throwing around words like power and influence so on and so forth. But it's been made clear by now that Harry didn't need power, he had it in spades. Influence didn't tickle his fancy much either. Which was only solidified by his absolute refusal to join Riddle's little club or the way he doesn't try at all too cosy up to the Slytherins while maintaining a bright untouchable persona.

Even more so, with how obvious the Slytherins reluctantly respect him and don't bother to make nice, the other Houses have caught interest. Harry was reasonably popular outside the Snake Den and got along with a wide variety of Hogwarts' students. He could proudly say he was one of the select few to see the infamous Hufflepuff Common Room and the Ravenclaws enjoyed having him in the Library during Trivia night. As an ex-Gryffindor, he blended right in, and easily helped with practice on the Quidditch Pitch. Much to the ire of his Head of House and House Team.

Harry was almost curious to see what Riddle would try to use to ensnare him with, but he was also beyond intrigued that Childmort was so blatantly fishing for something to use instead of assuming. It's clear to Harry that he has the upper hand right now, only what card to play?

Then it hits him.

"How about this Riddle," Harry starts slow and purposeful, carefully watching Childmort's expressions. Riddle was already displaying a delicate interest, no more than necessary, of course, but Harry could see the surprise lingering in his eyes. Clearly, Mr _Persuade-Your-Interests_ didn't think he was going to get as far as he had, his posture had gone lax at some point, and it immediately eased into an attentive and eager position. "When you find the Chamber Of Secrets —and don't look at me like that we both know it's only a matter of when. I want you to vow that you'll show it to, and explore it for the very first time with, me."

Harry cautiously rose to his feet, his body screaming in protest. The magic of Samhain was in full swing; the pure air had done a lot to heal his aches, but he could still do with that proper checkup. "If you agree to do that I'll come to your little get-together this evening. Now if you need me, I'll be in the infirmary."

Harry strolled away, enjoying the gentle early evening breeze. Snickering to himself as he replayed the frozen, dare he think, the _shocked_ expression on Riddle's face. Harry was stepping into the castle when the moving weight on his shoulders quickly reminded him he was not alone.

§ _Hatchling knows of Master's search for the Chamber? You are a very smart hatchling; I knew I picked a proper Mate._ § It took every last bit of Harry's sanity not to reply something scathing in Parseltongue. He heaved a sighed and gently unwound the snake from his shoulders, carefully crouching despite everything in his body screaming not to, and deposited Childmort's snake on Hogwarts' floor.

"I'm sure you know how to return to the dorms without causing trouble, please head there and refrain from sleeping in my bed. I would appreciate it," Harry gave the snake a small pat on the head, he always did have a soft spot for them. "It was nice meeting you Danh."

The snake started slithering down the hall towards the dungeons; Harry swore she was laughing. § _Silly Hatchling, your bed is only warmest with you in it._ § Standing, Harry rolled his eyes and made his way to Madam Klatskin.

Just another day in 1942.

Harry wondered if he would hear from Tom soon. How desperate was he to have Harry in his ranks? Only time would tell, and the night was still young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Beta'd so if you see anything o d d let a bro know.


	2. Harry Evans just reptile-napped his snake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is a clueless fucking mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start off saying that ya dude fucked up and forgot that the Chamber opened before Tom killed his fam, so we're about the use what the cool kats call "creative liberty and cheating" to magically bop the whole finding out his heritage and killing his family thing up a year. (like nbd, am I right?)  
> We have officially veered off track. Merlin help us all.  
> So instead of offing his papa and grands in August of 43, he did it in August 42. This would all be an easy fix, but I'm honestly just lazy. Okay now back to your scheduled programming.

Hogwarts and her halls seemed to sing at the start of every school year. Her magic like a whispered melody if one listened closely enough. She was ever-changing and yet to the youngest eyes pacing her halls, she was utterly dormant. She only reached out to help in her subtle ways, revealing a path to a lost student or offering short cuts to those running behind, maybe a suddenly lost item turning up when most needed. She was much like a mother letting her children explore the world all they like, keeping her distance and only intervening when they needed a helping hand after a sudden fall.

Not that Tom could understand such things, but he supposed if there was ever a motherly figure in his life Hogwarts would be it.

Only she was able to provide such a complete sense of safety, protecting Tom from the Muggle War and the repulsive conditions of Wool's Orphanage. Here there was always a sense of belonging; even when the children of his House cared little for and looked down on him, Tom was still able to find his peace in her halls and _especially_ her Library.

What a Library it was. As a 1st-year, it had taken Tom's breath away, the number of books row after row seemingly endless, access to knowledge beyond what he had thought capable of asking for. He had spent his first three years greedily consuming all the books he could get his hands on, tomes of old and academic journals of new, each somehow more intriguing than the last. He fought his House adversaries with an unparalleled control for Dark spells well beyond his age group, all gathered from hours of research and long nights of practice.

The edge of the Forbidden Forrest knew him thoroughly, and during 2nd-year his after-hour studies lead him to Danh. A misfired curse and disgruntled snake taught him to value healing spells just as well. Their bond became unbreakable.

Tom's 4th-year brought a wave of enlightenment in his desperate searches for proof that his father had been a Wizard. The Library's stone walls, dark wood shelves and Danh's weight on his shoulders provided silent encouragement in his pursuit of heritage. And when he finally had everything pieced together, they helped Tom swallow his disappointment in his weak Witch Mother and take action. Confronting his Uncle and learning of his Muggle Father's coerced love to his Mother and abandonment, he got his due revenge, and nothing had been sweeter.

The Gaunt Ring was something he wore with pride, a trophy for his patience on display the start of his 5th-year. Everything had been going perfectly. Perfectly until about two weeks into the school year.

Until he noticed Harry Evans.

An orphaned Muggleborn in Slytherin.

Now if that didn't sound _familiar_.

To say Tom was intrigued would be putting it lightly. He had worked hard to get where he was, his current standing in Slytherin as the head of the hierarchy. Though Tom now knew it was foolish of him to believe anyone else fit, after all being the Heir of Slytherin guaranteed it to no other, he had still started in a dreadful position. No knowledge of the Magical World, young, poor, and without a Name. He clawed his way to the top, fought the decisive battles, swayed the right people, his perfect grades and well crafted, charming personality only furthering Tom to his goals.

And then there was _Harry Evans_. For a homeschooled Muggleborn, he certainly didn't act like one, quickly learning to hold his head high and walk with pure grace. Navigating the castle halls as though he was born in them. He was handling the challenging curriculum with ease, not bothering to pander to the Slytherins and instead finding a station in the three other House's. Evans had gained a reputation at an alarming rate.

It was impressive, and yes, some of the Snakes had felt threatened. But Evans knew how to hold his own. Never the one to start a fight and always the one to end them, the Slytherins were hard-pressed, opting to ignore Evans only a week into the year. He had taken an intriguing place in the hierarchy, his magical prowess and grades held him in a position high enough to challenge Tom if he felt so inclined. But with the apparent dismissal and disdain of their fellow Slytherins, Evans wouldn't get very far. They would never follow a _Mudblood_. 

Of this, Tom knew _all_ too well.

Therefore, two weeks was too long not to notice the allure that was Harry Evans.

Evans was always in the Library. Tom had taken to watching and as the new student wandered the rows with stacks of books floating behind him, each new tome disrupting the already precarious piles and carefully readjusting to the new weight; that seed of familiarity sprout into irritation.

It was far too uncanny. Evans read like books were promptly going out of style. Or as if he had only just now realised books existed. _Or as if he had never been around so much knowledge before, and the urge to consume it all was overwhelming._

Tom was infuriated, and he could not deduce if his ire were from the unsettling likeness he saw in the other, or from the creeping bitter resentment forming in his thoughts asking where Evans was 1st-year when Tom searched for such a kindred spirit.

But that was foolish. So Tom settled on the former.

Tom would watch as green eyes were unable to keep still, following word after word and line after line, lips faintly twitching as though Evans were reading aloud. He could have been if the slight Privacy Ward always shimmering around him was anything to go off of. And truly, Tom wanted to be angry when Evans found his hidden corner. The small round table against a window in the condensed Muggle Studies section. It was rarely visited, possibly even unused, with a comfortable plush green chair Tom had transfigured sometime in 3rd-year.

But after seeing Evans so absorbed in his selected reading material and surrounded by stacks of books on the floor, open tomes in his lap and on the table, with the filtered light of a Septembers early evening warming the side of his face, and seated in a chair Tom himself had crafted. Tom could not find it in him to say anything.

For a second time in his life, Tom was speechless. He felt like a 1st-year all over again, watching Harry Evans, and it took his breath away.

There was an indistinct shift to his thoughts. The irritation dispersed and a slight cavity, much like his secret Muggle Studies spot, claimed its place in his mind. It was unfamiliar and entirely too consuming. His natural inclination to the Mind Arts was unavailing, leaving him defenceless in the face of this sudden onslaught to his subtly constructed Occlumency shields. Tom could hear whispering from its depths as the days of watching Evans went on. Murmuring to him as too much time passed without a formal introduction. Words that sounded suspiciously like Danh when she found her new warming stone by the fireplace.

§ _Mine_.§

' _Yes_ ,' Tom had sighed, shaking his head slowly when he realised. It was obvious, and he berated himself for taking so long to understand what his thoughts were so clearly relaying to him. ' _I want Evans_.'

Evans was too good not to have on Tom's side. He would do well as an ally. Having a Name and money was useful, of course. His Knights had the status or funds to be relevant enough for their cause, but Evans had that raw power. Of the ambitious, knowledgeable, loyal, and brave in Tom's Knights, he knew of only one who could match Evans. Himself. Tom could not chance Harry Evans to slip through his fingers. And he was never one to deny himself of his wants. Undoubtedly _this_ is what his mind had wanted; it noticed Evans' usefulness before Tom had come to terms. _Clearly_.

Though.

It seemed Tom's budding desire for an alliance with the new student was decidedly one-sided.

Any attempts to send his more _politically neutral_ Knights to befriend Evans seemed to backfire whenever the 5th-year Perfect was mentioned. The conversation would start light and almost pleasant, according to Edward Rosier, but any time topics drifted to their high respect or admiration for Tom, Evans would " _look like he had chewed a handful of Bertie Bott's Vomit flavoured beans_." It was troubling, to say the least, Harry Evans had a formidable Slytherin mask, but it never held long when Tom was involved. There was a perspicuous disdain Evans harboured towards him, and none of his Knights could determine its origins.

At one point Callum Mulciber had returned from an attempted interception of Evans dazed with an almost haunted look in his eyes. Apparently, Evans had turned around, placed one iron-hand grip on Mulciber's shoulder, thrust his wand into Mulciber's crotch and said, " _If you've followed me here to push propaganda of_ Tom fucking Riddle _into my presence after the horrible excuse that was the History of Magic class we just had. Then I will take a well-aimed_ Diffindo _to your balls; you will become infertile and never continue your family line_." He then smiled beguilingly, winked and immediately continued on his way.

Mulciber has been unwilling to speak to Evans since. Abraxas Malfoy mentioned that he might be traumatised.

Even though this was the case, Tom had made plans to extend an invite to Evans the morning of Samhain officially, and he was looking forward to it. He was confident that it would set the tone for their _partnership_ , and even after waking up to Evans empty dorm bed, he had still started his day in a pleasant mood, determined to catch him before breakfast.

 _Yet_ , Evans had taken to sitting at the end of the Slytherin table near the first years for meals since arriving. And that was only if he turned down invites from other Houses. Hufflepuff seemed to get their badger claws into him the most and so even on the morning of Samhain with carved pumpkins floating in the air and breakfast themed to appease the Muggleborns and their celebration of Halloween, Evans was seated at the Hufflepuff table. Still, this small setback was not enough to discourage.

Tom and his Inner Circle sat at the centre of the Slytherin table. The typical House Hierarchy arranged themselves as youngest towards the professors and eldest towards the entrance to the Great Hall. But in Slytherin House, the centre of the table was reserved for the top tier and their associates. News from either end could reach Tom swiftly this way, and orders could be delivered with little chance of misunderstandings.

Tom was careful with who he surrounded himself in his own House. While the Knights of Walpurgis was open (within reason) to the brightest of all the Houses, his Inner Circle comprised of only the most competent and useful of Slytherin, holding Pureblood names of old and most from families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They were all well rounded with essential connections in the Community or the Ministry.

"Riddle, what's got you in such a bearable mood this morning? Your charisma is almost blinding," Rupert Lestrange was one of his more outspoken ' _friends_ '. Tom would consider him something of a lefthand man, Lestrange was ruthless and proficient with magic even if he was filterless to a fault.

Those within hearing range shifted in unease at the backlash to come from such a statement. Tom was never tolerant of Lestrange's rambling and was the only one who could keep his blabber in line. But today, Tom was unbothered, too busy planning carefully. Today would be the first time he and Evans would share an _actual_ conversation, and it called for nothing short of perfection. Harry Evans would walk away from their tête-à-tête with a new opinion of Tom and a reserved place at tonight's meeting.

Fraser Avery scoffed. "Belt up, Lestrange. Riddle's got no time for your nonsense this morning, Samhain is always a mess to deal with. The 1st-years keep pranking each other, and us Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs get the brunt of it," he frowned, it barely reflected on his features. "Let the Perfect enjoy a peaceful morning before the inevitable chaos." Avery and Lestrange butt head more often than not, something about a rogue bludger during Quidditch practice in 2nd-year.

A dramatic sigh held off Lestrange's scathing reply and quickly attention drifted to Malfoy. He held his chin in his hand, and with a well-practised grace, rolled his eyes. "It's too late; the prank war has started. A Gryffindor 6th-year somehow turned a 1st-year Slytherin students bookbag into an expanded compartment that can _Carpe Retractum_ anyone that reaches inside of it, into it." He reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice before continuing, "Madam Klatskin's been attempting to reverse the charm with Professor Zender for the past hour and a half. Slughorn already asked me to let the Perfects know that all extra circular time will be spent monitoring the halls throughout today. Except during his SlugClub meeting tonight, of course, the annoying tosser." Malfoy muttered the last sentence with a much-restrained bitterness, his lips pursing and taut.

Tom paused and glanced to his right, "And when exactly did Professor Slughorn relay this information to you, Abraxas?" Malfoy quickly straightened his posture and set down his drink, gone suddenly was Tom's pleasant mood. How would he speak to Evans if all his minimal free time would be directed towards hall monitoring? Classes were no place to have such a discussion, lunch or dinner would be too public, and the SlugClub gathering would not offer an interruption-free moment long enough. Anytime after then would be too late, his Knights meeting was scheduled to take place following the end of the party.

"He had stopped me shortly before arriving at the Great Hall this morning. Professor had hoped to catch you, but he had a late start, and you were already seated for breakfast. He asked me to pass along this information to the other Perfects in our House while he informed the Head Girl."

Tom processed this information silently to himself. The Head of House's must have decided on this last minute; it was something new every year to tackle the Samhain _situation_. "How troubling, I had intended to speak with Harry Evans today. It seems I won't have the time," he examined his Inner Circles reactions. Mulciber had turned white as a sheet, little surprise there. Lestrange seemed pleased, too pleased. Avery was strictly indifferent, while Malfoy shared a confused look with Edward Rosier. Fergus Nott, Maxwell Dolohov, and Beckett Rowle stiffened with a similar disgust harshing their features.

"Shouldn't be very troubling at all, My Lord. No reason to lower yourself and consort with those lesser than us." Nott was the first to voice his disapproval, but Tom wasn't seeking any opinions on this matter.

"Allow me to remind you. You do not address me with that title in such a public setting, Nott. And do keep in mind, whom I consort with is not your place to comment on. Evans will soon be joining us, any issues you all may have with this will be acknowledged and promptly dismissed. He has the potential to be invaluable to our cause." The entire group tensed, Tom's ire in the morning on Samhain of all days was the last thing they wanted.

Lestrange gave a wary chuckle, "Riddle, don't get me wrong. That's great and all, but how are you going to convince Evans of this?" He paused, almost hesitant before he shook it off. "Excuse my speaking frankly; I'm quite sure he hates your guts for some reason."

"Rupert is right. We all know what he did to me, and I had only mentioned you in passing. Merlin knows what Evans would do if he were actually in your presence." Mulciber gaze was steadily on the back of Harry Evans' head; he appeared to be laughing at something Penn Abbott had expressed from across the table.

"Everyone has something they want. All I need to do is find out what makes Evans tick."

' _Other than me_ ,' Tom thought to himself.

"But, it seems we won't be able to find out until later today," Tom turned his attention to Avery. "Fraser, can I trust you to handle inviting Evans to tonight's meeting? I'm sure you can persuade him well enough." A flicker of unease broke through Avery's mask, but Tom wasn't about to change his mind. Lestrange's interest was suspicious, Rosier and Malfoy didn't have the social tact, and the rest wanted nothing to do with Harry Evans.

"...Of course, Riddle. I'll be sure to extend the invitation before tonight's Feast."

"Good," slowly, Tom resumed eating. The group released a collective silent sigh of relief and followed his example. "Oh and Fraser?"

Avery quickly looked back at Tom, fork halfway to his mouth, "Do _not_ disappoint me." If there was any warmth from the glow of the craved pumpkins hanging above Slytherin table that morning, it was most certainly gone now. Tom's controlled, vicious magic circled the group of Slytherins and Avery shivered slightly at the hidden warning in Tom's voice. The implications that the sentence demanded. There was no room for failure in this task. Evans refusal was unacceptable.

And later that day when a battered and hexed Avery caught Tom as the Feast was starting up with news of his incompetence, Tom couldn't say he was surprised. The immediate disappointment silently escalated to anger, but the smile never fell from Tom's face. A curt nod and a smooth murmur followed, "You are dismissed, Fraser. Excuse me; I now have to correct your foolish mistakes." And as Tom walked away, Avery shivered at the unspoken words that bled from Tom's eyes and wrapped around him like a noose.

' _This is not over_.'

Tom made his way to the dorms with a haste people would hesitate to call running, because Tom Riddle was so _otherworldly_ and did not do plebian activities such as _running_. When he found the dorm empty, no Evans in sight, he started a mental list of every possible location Harry Evans would go.

An odd movement from the edge of Evans' bed caught him as he had narrowed the list down to the Library, Quidditch Pitch, any Hufflepuff Territory, or the Defence room. Danh peaked out of the foot of the bed, and in an almost human motion, tilted her head.

§ _Master? Your stress levels seem very high,_ § her tongue scented the air, and a knowing gleam caught the depths of her eyes. § _Could it be that Hatchling again? He is not here and left some time ago. The Duel was exciting to watch that Hatchling is strong. I hope he returns soon; the bed has lost all its warmth._ §

Tom shook his head, with an exasperated fondness. § _Danh, I understand you prefer natural warmth, but please inform me if you plan on staying in Evans' bed all day, so I don't have to waste time charming my bed in between classes._ §

§ _But your bed is where I return when the Hatchling's bed is no longer satisfactory._ § She crept her way down to the dorm floor, and Tom bent, lowering his arm, allowing Danh to work her way up and around his shoulders.

Tom sighed, § _I'm preoccupied with more pressing matters at the moment, we'll discuss this later. Do you know where Evans went? Today's plans have not gone accordingly. I fear his favour may be unsalvageable._ § He left the room, students giving him a wide berth. The fear and respect of his fellow Slytherins amplified in Danh's presence. It was easy to forget sometimes that Tom had a large snake familiar loose in the school, she tended to avoid other people.

§ _No Master, though I do recommend the large waterhole first._ §

§ _The Black Lake? Hm, yes we'll try there after checking the Library._ §

The Library, what Tom thought was an obvious choice, was very much lacking Harry Evans. Danh had wandered through the Restricted Section and after 30 minutes of searching insisted he followed her because he was being foolish and it was apparent that he did not know the Hatchlings scent well enough. Tom was almost offended.

When he caught up to her after a brief interruption to direct a 1st-year Gryffindor to the Great Hall, she was wrapped around Evans' shoulders on the sand by the Black Lake. All his worries seemed to melt away, and if Tom could say so himself, Evans looked rather fetching with Danh wrapped around his shoulders. But Tom would not say that. Ever. He suppressed his wandering thoughts and caught the tail end of Danh's mindless chatter when he was close enough.

§ _—I had watched it from my place by the fire. You would be a suitable Mate for my Master._ § It was times like this when Tom was grateful to be the only Parselmouth left in England. And Evans' panic was laughable, Danh would never harm her favourite human heater.

He carefully stepped up to the student's side, "She won't attack you, Evans, she listens to me. No need to look so scared." Green eyes glanced Tom's way and burned with an intensity that promised a fight if someone came searching for one. But an exhausted wariness was lurking in all that emerald fire, and the cut on Evans' cheek and bruise on his jaw were enough to assure Tom that he would have the upper hand if things came to that.

Not that it would be an easy win. No, with delight Tom acknowledged that Evans would most definitely be quite the challenge even in this state. Still, Tom felt unconcerned.

Evans scoffed, "Scared of a snake, Riddle? I live in a dorm of them; I have no time to be afraid." 

"Good," Tom gave in and sat by their side, close enough for Danh to reach out and curl back around Tom's shoulders if she pleased. "She rather likes you, and it would be a shame to have to tell her you were frightened of her."

"Does she now?" Evans had mastered the uninterested and distant emotional display, very Slytherin and moreso, very _Pureblood_. His doubt reading well enough, yet appearing reserved. Tom couldn't help the small smile; it really was impressive. Only two months and Evans adopted such a well-crafted mask.

Tom, amused, gave a careful nod. "Oh yes, Danh doesn't find you nearly as annoying as the others in our House. She also insists your bed is the warmest." Suddenly all of the silent praise shattered at Evans' sharp eye twitch and frown.

"She's been sleeping in my bed?" Evans' look of pure annoyance was replaced with Danh's face reaching out from his shoulders. Her slight head bobbing up and down, tongue racing out of her mouth.

§ _Master, you favour the Hatchling more than I. This Hatchling would make a good Mate, powerful and warm, this one will do nicely during the winter. I approve._ § Tom's annoyance was incredibly well hidden in comparison. This mating nonsense was nothing new; she would continuously recommend students she deemed suitable for Tom. Though, this was the first male she seemed set on. 

He glanced at Harry for a moment before giving his reply, § _He does not like me and wouldn't take kindly to my sudden claiming him. This is a battle best fought slowly, and I don't want to push him away._ § Best to brush off Danh with simple excuses and the second half was accurate on all accounts.

This conversation was not like anything Tom had expected so far; he was pleased that they could get along well enough. Making a mental note, he reminded himself to avoid bringing up Danh's sleeping habits in the future.

And yet, maybe Tom had thought so too soon because the pinched expression on Evans' face implied that Evans' possibly didn't share Tom's inner sentiments.

"Why are you here, _Riddle_? Haven't you and your goons done enough today? Does your snake need to harass me too?"

"Goons? That's hardly fair, Evans." Well. Nott, Dolohov, and Rowle could undoubtedly give off that impression, Tom supposed, but the others were useful enough. "And it was not my intentions for any hostility. I've been meaning to reach out to you myself in hopes of asking you to join an... _after hours club_ , of sorts. We have a meeting after Slughorn's soiree. Sadly, my free time earlier was taken from me by last-second Perfect Duties. I would have asked you myself, and surely we would have avoided any of the...incidents that took place earlier." Useful may have been too kind a word.

"You're saying if you had come up to me and asked me to join your... _club_ , yourself and I had laughed directly at your face. You wouldn't have hexed or cursed me out of pure frustration and rage for not getting your way?"

"Of course," Tom gave his most disarming smile. "I would never do anything so public. But I'm sure we can come to an agreement on the matter somehow. There must be something I can offer to persuade your interest." Plus, Tom knew that Evans could not say no for long. Tom would be very persistent and determined. 

Evans had gone silent; suspicion danced around his person from tense Danh wrapped shoulders to guarded eyes and pursed lips. A moment passed, and Evans had appeared to reach an answer. The suspicion cleared, and a confident glint shone in his eyes, his chin jutted out, and a ghost of a smile graced his lips before he answered.

"How about this Riddle," Evans almost playfully started, his green stare holding Tom steady. Immediately Tom was interested and honestly shocked at how easily this had gone. He was confident in his ability to meet Evans' requirement, and it seemed the cards were in Tom's favour.

Or so he thought.

"When you find the Chamber Of Secrets," His world came to a standstill. Tom's interest in the Chamber was a very private affair. No one knew about his quest, and any mentions of Salazar Slytherin's hidden network of tunnels under Hogwarts was brought up as a passing comment and always by another. Tom could not believe some new transfer student, albeit intelligent and competent enough, could find out about something he kept so close to himself. "—and don't look at me like that we both know it's only a matter of when. I want you to vow that you'll show it to, and explore it for the very first time with, me."

Explore it with Evans? What did Harry Evans have to gain from getting access to the Chamber? What is his interest in Tom's _birthright_? And a _Vow_ of all things to hold him to it? Suddenly Tom's confidence in his ability to secure Evans' position in the Knights of Walpurgis was dwindling.

And it was _infuriating_.

Evans carefully stood from the sand, a sharp sound of something popping followed him and he continued, "If you agree to do that I'll come to your little get-together this evening. Now if you need me, I'll be in the Infirmary."

Tom could do nothing but watch as Evans walked away, the shock refusing to leave with him. And oddly for a moment, the only thought that came to mind was that _Harry Evans just reptile-napped his snake_. Danh allowed herself to be whisked away.

Tom had sat by the shore of the Black Lake for the remainder of the Feast. He was staring out into dark waters with a million new questions running in his mind. Harry Evans was an enigma. A _dangerous_ enigma. Something in the playful tone and knowing eyes had Tom _wary_. Once again, he was sure Evans was a necessary ally. It would not be wise to be in a position where they would be against each other. There was a guarantee of mutual destruction that Tom could not afford.

But was _Harry Evans_ worth another soul knowing where the Chamber of Secrets was and with that Tom's intentions?

He carefully rose to his feet, casting a _Scourgify_ to his robes and made his way to the castle.

And if his legs carried him to the doors of the Infirmary, he most certainly didn't notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.s Thank you all so much for the love towards this fic! I was amazed! And super sorry this took so long to get out, I was at a Convention called RTX, so I was stressing out about travelling, and then I hit a large writing block, AND THEN it was my birthday, so I'm a mess. But thanks for bearing with me!
> 
> P.s.s. I'm usually not a big fan of reading the same scene from a different POV, but this felt necessary to intro Tom. Hopefully you'll never see this again (unless you like it???)


	3. And who were you expecting a visit from, Mr Evans?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go to a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Sorry folks this is way longer than I had intended, but I hope the length makes up for how long this took to get out.
> 
> I wanted to say thanks so much for the lovely comments! So many of you left them on the last chapter, and it fills my heart, I am not worthy. Also, thank you for over 500 Kudos?? I'm shocked and bewildered and hoping you're all okay because one of us is insane and it's probably you.
> 
> No Danh this chapter-sobs. She'll come back to us soon!

Harry drifted awake to the sound of yelling.

“Mr Hale! If I see you in this Infirmary a sixth time today, I will be putting you on strict broom and wand rest! Your little pranks are getting entirely out of hand,” Harry opened his eyes to an all too familiar ceiling, robes shifting on stone and the beginnings of a counter-argument dying quickly. “ _Do not_ make me go to your Head of House, Mr Hale,” there was a slight pause in her rant, the next words were softer, with a hint of worry. “And if you’re being pranked too much in return, please do tell me.”

Turning his head to the sight of a concerned Madam Klatskin, hands on her hips, stern-faced and smooth edges, was more than enough to tickle Harry’s memories of a one Poppy Pomfrey. The nostalgic and awfully fond grin tugging at his lips couldn’t be helped. All MediWitches must be cut from the same cloth of unyielding kindness, Harry was sure.

Madam Klatskin’s eyes caught his from across the room, and immediately, her stern expression melted to a soft smile, “Ah and look who decided to join the living.” With a quick run along with gesture to the Gryffindor student Harry placed as ‘Mr Hale’, she made her way to his cot. Harry slowly sat up and stretched out his back. He was feeling worlds better, maybe a bit tired, but healed. He could probably retake his entire 4th-year right now if he wanted to.

He did _not_ want to.

“Now Mr Evans, when I said you could rest for a short while I had not meant most of the evening.” She raised her wand, and Harry felt the last dregs of sleep snap away, leaving him refreshed and wide awake. “If you leave now, you’ll be able to make it to most of your House activities. Though if you are not feeling up to it, you are more than welcome to stay here for the night.”

Harry startled, _had he been out for that long_? Pulling his wand from his robe folded at the end of the bed and casting a quick _Tempus,_ had him on his feet in a flash. “No! No, but thank you very much, Madam Klatskin. I’m actually terribly late to Professor Slughorn’s gathering.” Harry could give less than a damn about being late to Slughorn’s _soirée_ , but the Professor could be annoyingly persistent, and Harry had the feeling if he didn’t humour the man with this his Potions class would suffer for it, among other things. 

He also absolutely did not want to stay in the Infirmary overnight. There was an unknown vulnerability that came during the darkness in the ample open room with only the stars through its tall windows to keep him company; he hated it.

Harry grabbed his robe and paused.

His early conversation with Childmort came to mind. Harry _had_ told Riddle to find him in the Infirmary if he agreed to Harry’s terms on accepting his invitation to the angst Dark Arts teen club, _right_? That wasn’t just some lucid dream Harry had while knocked out on the potions Madam Klatskin forced down his throat? He would have remembered meeting Riddle here, _right_? He couldn’t have been so exhausted to have missed an entire conversation with _the_ _actual devil_. 

“Madam, before I go-did anyone happen to visit me while I was here?”

”Visit you? No, I don’t believe anyone specifically came searching you out. So you are safe from any interrogation, and since you plan on leaving, do remember: No. Fighting.” Her laugh was soft as she shook her head. Even in this time, Harry seemed unable to escape trouble. The Matron often witnessed the passionate talking to’s, usually from one of the Puffs.

Harry wasn’t sure if it was safe to put a word to the sinking feeling in his chest. Like his heart had suddenly decided to vacation to its summer home in his stomach.

_Disappointment_. 

It tasted sour on the flat of his tongue, and Harry could feel his nose scrunch up and mouth twist at the phantom tang. He couldn’t shake off that desperate need to hold on to some hope. Harry wanted it to ground him, to hold him steady, but it only ever left him with this painful sinking. 

Was he too naive? Possibly. Harry liked to think of it as seeking out the best in current situations. 

His intentions on asking Riddle for a Vow to explore the Chamber together was, _technically_ , unnecessary. Harry knew he could access the Chamber and its Library at any time if he wanted to. The hard part would be getting around the giant Basilisk but been there-done that, so he wasn’t overly concerned. It’s just, breaking all sense of time and appearing in the 40s opened Harry’s eyes to a world of possibilities. 

Myrtle Warren doesn’t need to die, Hagrid doesn’t need to get expelled, and Hermione’s 3rd-year voice in the back of his head saying, _“Awful things have happened when Wizards have meddled with time...”_ wasn’t loud enough to convince Harry that this might be a terrible idea. 

Right now he was minting time and Harry was willing to postpone getting home if it meant saving the future from a Moaning Myrtle and giving Hagrid a chance he never got. Plus, learning about Childmort and gaining information could help Harry when he returned to the future. Where was the harm in using this extra time to become stronger, wiser? His thoughts drifted to his most recent summer.

Facing Voldemort in the graveyard with nothing stronger than an _Expelliarmus_ , losing Cedric and the nightmares that came after. Everyone calling him a liar. Disconnected. Vague answers. Practically complete radio silence, as far as Harry was concerned. Then the Dementors and the Hearing in front of the entire Wizengamont... _no_. Nothing was wrong in using this time to his advantage. His Slytherin side refuses to let an opportunity like this pass up. The chance to focus his efforts on building his arsenal of spell work, just these few months alone have already proven beyond useful. Harry has never been more in tune with his Magic, has never had such a firm grasp on Theory. Maybe that Hat wasn’t so barmy after all.

Harry forced a chuckle out that had him cringing; he hoped the look in Madam Klatskin’s eyes as she heard it wouldn’t linger too long in his thoughts. He fled the Infirmary to escape the next question she was sure to ask him,

” _And who were you expecting a visit from, Mr Evans_?”

* * *

Already well past fashionably late, Harry forwent trying to pick apart the invitation for any hint of a dress code. He arrived at Slughorn’s office in his school robes, looking like he had just spent his entire afternoon rolling in the courtyard. Not far from the truth, but Harry had given up after the fourth _Scourgify_. This was as good as he was going to get.

The party wasn’t of importance in Harry’s mind; there was no reason to make high society connections when half of the people he meets will be dead or very _very_ old when he returned to his time. Plus he didn’t want anyone recalling Harry _Evans_ when addressing Harry _Potter_.

Not to mention that the event felt strongly like another _Yule Ball_ and Harry couldn’t stop cringing whenever he thought about _that_.

But no, this wouldn’t help him get stronger or save anyone’s life. He just needed to keep up appearances, at least in the Professor’s eyes. No need to cast any unwarranted suspicion all because Harry didn’t want to be social. Potential annoying Potions classes aside, how would Harry begin to explain his disinterest? What student would deny the opportunity to leave an impression on the bigwigs of Hogwarts’ Alumni? What _Slytherin_ would deny the opportunity? Social climbing Snakes that they were.

With a drawn-out sigh, probably his last chance to show real emotion and expel all the exhaustion pent up from this wholly ridiculous and far too long day; Harry opened the door and stepped into the expanded office. 

Magic would never stop being...well _magical_. Harry’s Head of House had outdone himself with this one. The comfortable office had utterly transformed into a proper function hall, fitted with tables and chairs, a large floor for mingling or dancing, and an open buffet serving what Harry could only assume was the finest drinks and cuisine the Hogwarts House Elves could make or find. 

Slytherin colours were favoured in the decor, but it didn’t seem too out of place with the Samhain theme this evening. It appeared to be leaning towards Gothic, which was a ubiquitous sight in some older circles in the Wizarding Community, but there was an apparent effort being made for any Muggleborns in attendance. Lit carved pumpkins scattered through the candlelight, and live bats kept to themselves in the ceiling rafters, what Harry hoped was _fake_ blood dripped from odd cracks here and there.

It was transparent Muggleborn pandering or a novelty experience for the Purebloods. Judging by the looks on some guests faces, it was less of a novelty and more of a distasteful design choice.

If Harry weren’t forced to endure their attitudes, he probably would have laughed.

”Harry!” A loud voice broke through his musing and quickly, Harry was lead into the hall by a firm grasp to his elbow. ”And where have you been Mister? We’ve been searching for you all night, and you missed the Feast!” The shake of her head and bright smile ruined the chastising tone of her voice. ”Abbott started a betting pool, of all things. He was sure you were going to skip out.” _Of course_ , Harry snickered to himself. Out of all the people to spot him first, _of course_ , it was Celina Bones.

Celina reminded Harry of Amelia and Susan Bones if he searched hard enough. Her hair had less of their golden brass colour and lent more strawberry blonde, but the sharp intelligence in her eyes was definitely hereditary. She was eerily good at picking out a face in a crowd, and she always knew just where to look when searching out Harry.

”Sorry, Celina, it’s a long story. And I don’t want to explain it twenty times tonight. So drag me to them, and I’ll get it over with all at once,” Harry paused to change her hold. The Hufflepuff Perfect had a mean grip when she wasn’t careful, and with the way the surrounding company was eyeing them up, he had a feeling they weren’t acting _presentable_ enough. Harry wouldn’t have bothered if it was just him, but Celina was far too kind to deserve that nonsense.

”Alright, alright, and what is going on with your robes? Do you know it’s formal attire tonight? Wait, what a silly question. Of course, you don’t; this is your first time attending-oh, hold still.” With a quick muttered spell and an unfamiliar wand movement, Harry’s tie was straightening itself and any creases we’re pressed flat. He gave her a nod in thanks and soon enough, they were making their way through the crowd, arriving at a circular table positioned beside the far wall.

”Look who I found! _Finally_ , he graces us with his presence looking hilariously put out in front of the door.” Celina sat in an open chair and patted the empty seat to her right. ”You owe me three galleons, Abbott,” she said, as Harry took a seat.

Penn Abbott held his stomach while he laughed, a large, boisterous thing. He slipped into his dress robes and pulled out a few coins to slide Celina’s way; she quickly pocketed them with a cheeky grin. ”Oh, Harry, _why_ did you come tonight? I was sure I was going to be a few galleons richer!” Penn mourned his loss and levelled a glare his way, and it would have been intimidating if he wasn’t still fighting off a smile. “You didn’t set me up, did you?”

Penn was nothing like Hannah, or maybe he was. Harry hadn’t yet gotten to know Hannah Abbott personally in his own time, and what he did know wasn’t very positive. She was too quick to flip on her opinions of him and seemed to lack self-confidence, Penn, on the other hand, had plenty to go around and was firm in his convictions. Harry often wondered if his runner up House was Gryffindor.

”Ha-Ha, hilarious Abbott. We all know Harry is too soft-hearted; if he weren’t sorted a Snake, I would have pegged him for a Badger.” To Penn’s left sat Evander Goldstein. The boy was extremely bright, could answer any question on Magical Theory in a flick and was a fantastic Duelling partner, but _Merlin_ he was _awful_ at Care of Magical Creatures. They were both the same type of quiet; Harry liked to think. That soft rumbling thunderstorm in the mid-afternoon kind, they never needed many words when they were alone. Evander was Harry’s favourite Ravenclaw. 

’ _Well, in this time_ ,’ Harry corrected to himself. There was no Luna Lovegood here to rival Evander. A sharp pain prodded Harry’s heart; he held back the urge to rub violently at his chest.

Penn scoffed, a mock look of offence dramatically formed on his face and he reached for the back of Evander’s chair to steady himself, ” _A Badger? Harry?_ No no, dear Goldstein,” the Ravenclaws’ annoyance at being Penn’s _dear_ anything was quickly ignored. "Absolutely not, Harry is obviously Lion material before Badger.”

”Now hold on, am I not Eagle enough? See who I partner with next Trivia night, then we’ll know who’s soft-hearted.” Harry crossed his arms and raised his chin, hoping the fake haughtiness was reading through his posture. ”Besides, I’m just the right amount of cunning and ambition for the _excellent_ House of Salazar Slytherin. Who is to say I did not plan with Ms Bones and agree to a one-third cut of her profits?”

” _Ms Bones_ is to say. You are _not_ getting a cut of my galleons, _Mr_ _Evans_.” Celina raised a brow and looked Harry up and down, sizing him up like she were ready to fight. He wouldn’t have expected anything less.

Penn reached over to nudge Celina’s shoulder, gently bumping her into Harry. ”No one is stealing your precious galleons, ‘Lina, you won it fair and square. I should have guessed Harry would cave into coming. What finally convinced you? It couldn’t have been Sluggy’s promises of connections and gossip; even I know this isn’t really your scene.”

Harry could feel the beginnings of a sigh building up in his chest, but before he could delicately explain his frustrations with their Potions Professor, Evander was cutting in. “Harry, I don’t want to alarm you but ever since you sat down Tom Riddle has been staring with the intensity of a Cruciatus.”

Harry’s mask was more firmly in place before he could even get his next words out, “What, Riddle? Where?” He started glancing at the tables beside theirs, carefully surveying the room for Riddle’s intense grey eyes.

“Don’t be too obvious about it, but we are quite literally having a stare down of wills. He’s directly across the room behind you.” Evander was holding himself stiff in his seat, staring out just above Harry’s head.

Penn leant into Evander’s side and straightened out his back, stretching to try and see over Harry as well. He let out a soft whistle, “Oh, wow. Yeah, that’s impressive, how does he do that?” Harry quickly changed his mind on searching Childmort out. Better not to tempt fate.

“I’m not sure. I’m also not a Slytherin, so I don’t know how long I can keep this weird power play up. And I can’t tell if he’s staring at the back of Harry’s head or me. But I’m not about to stop this impromptu stare down just in case it _is_ me,” Count on Evander to never do anything halfway.

Harry broke at that, poorly holding off a laugh and trying to sink a little lower in his seat, “No, no. It’s probably me.”

“Harry what could you have possibly done to earn Riddle’s anger? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man upset in the five years we’ve known him. He’s always so pleasant and charming. _Too_ pleasant and charming,” Celina looked at Harry like he was a new species. Like the idea of Tom Riddle, _Lord Childmort_ , braking character and displaying a human emotion such as anger, was baffling and impossible.

“Ugh, don’t even get me started, it’s kind of a long story.” 

_’Yeah,’_ Harry scoffed mentally, ’ _My entire life long._ ’

“It’s actually part of why I was late.”

Evander broke his expressionless stare down to check over Harry, his eyes full of concern, “What? Did he do something to you?”

Penn rolled his eyes and gave a goodnatured punch to Evander’s arm, “Goldstein, Riddle wouldn’t do something to Harry. Riddle’s a Perfect too, remember? And like ‘Lina said, he’s usually so charming and harmless, why would you jump to that conclusion?”

“I don’t trust him. There’s something off about him, and I just can’t place it. It’s only gotten worse since the start of this year.” Evander shifted in his seat, a distressed look of discomfort pinched his face. _‘That’s odd...’_ Harry was sure there was more to the Ravenclaw’s apparent dislike towards Riddle, he filed that away for later examining.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Riddle at least _seems_ very reliable, but I do agree with Evander. There is something a little odd about _how_ perfect Riddle is. I know you Slytherins have your impenetrable masks, but his is scarily good. _Too_ good. Like he’s wearing an entire skin, not just a mask. It rubs me wrong that I can’t tell if he’s always so genuine and infallible or if it’s just one beautifully constructed lie.” Celina shivered at the thought, and Harry could feel himself wincing at how spot-on she was and how _lacking in proof he was_. Though Harry desperately wanted to nod his head and agree wholeheartedly with her instincts, it was a pointless battle with no tangible evidence.

“Oh come on you two, you can’t be serious. Riddle is an exemplary student. All the Professors love him, and all the students love him, even the whole of Slytherin House hangs on to every word he says. The guy is practically a prodigy and to top it all off: he’s a bloody orphan with a heart of gold! I swear last week I saw him helping a 1st-year find her lost Kneazle.” The admiration and awe bleeding into Penn’s voice left Harry fighting the urge to drop his to the table.

“Penn, Evander and Celina are right, Riddle is...odd. There’s more than something a _little_ off about him, but don’t worry, he didn’t do anything to me. Well. Anything _directly_ , at least. His lackeys started Duelling me 5 to 1 when I refused to join his angs-sorry, his _club_.” Harry quickly coughed off the embarrassment at the name slip up, “I was the only one who could walk away and ended up in the Infirmary for a little while.”

_‘No reason to mention the conversation at the lake.’_ Harry wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining that one. ‘ _Ah yes, I know about the Chamber because I’m from the future, a Parselmouth, and have personally slain the very large Basilisk residing in its dank depths. Using it as a bargaining chip may also prevent multiple people from becoming petrified and a death, the usual for me, you see.’_

“The Infirmary? Harry! You should have told us, we would have come with you at least,” Harry shook his head and pat Celina on her forearm, she worried too much. She needed to get used to the fact that Harry was as reckless as he was independent. Extremely.

Penn perked up, “Wait, his club? You don’t mean the Knights do you?”

“You know about it?”

“Know about it? Of course, most the Perfects have been asked to join. It has a fairly open House policy, maybe slightly biased of the Gryffs, but all and all if you have any high talent or natural skills in individual or multiple fields of Magic, you’ll probably get an invite.” Penn adjusted his posture to fit the proud self-satisfaction now exuding from his very being, seems he was a member. “It’s no wonder he wants you to join Harry; you’re brilliant. I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to ask, you being in the same House and all.”

Evander’s face scrunched in disgust, “I’m shocked he asked Harry at all, Abbott. You and I both know that Magical prowess is nothing in Riddle’s eyes if you’re anything less than a Halfblood. His bloody peers in _Slytherin Court,_ or whatever he calls his main group of goons, won’t tolerate those _so much lesser_ , after all.”

“Come on now Goldstein, don’t be like that. When has Riddle ever gone out of his way to mess with a Muggleborn?”

“Alright, that’s enough, you two. Slughorn is making his rounds again and Harry, I think he’s got his sights on you-good luck.” Celina quickly got up out of her chair and pulled Penn along with her; any disagreement immediately died down with one of Celina’s lours in his direction.

The betrayal was unforgivable and when Harry turned to thank Evander for sticking with him; the Ravenclaw was also nowhere to be found. Before Harry could genuinely consider seeking comfort in the form of his head pressed against the green table cloth, a loud chortle was fast approaching. “Mr Evans! Harry, my dear boy, I’m glad you decided to come!”

Like a switch, Harry was standing, and nodding respectfully to his Head of House, a pleasant smile firmly in place, “Of course Sir, I would never think to miss it. Thank you for inviting me.” Internally Harry was hoping for his Potter Luck to strike again, maybe in the form of a _regrettable_ incident that would _inconveniently_ force Harry to leave _immediately_. 

”Yes, yes! How could I not?” The Professor had placed his large hand on Harry’s shoulder faster than he could blink, “Such a bright student, top of your year alongside Mr Riddle, and so soon after the terrible tragedy of losing your family to Grindelwald. So sorry for your loss once again, my dear boy. But! That along with only being homeschooled all your life, why it is remarkable, Mr Evans! There was no doubt in my mind that you would thrive in attendance this evening.”

If Harry weren’t forced to listen to Slughorn go on, he would be almost grateful that the Professor never often left any room to get a word in edgewise. “Thank you, Sir. It’s been challenging to adjust, but placing my attentions on upcoming OWLs has been a welcome distraction to recent events.”

And by ‘ _upcoming OWLs’_ Harry meant extensive Time Travel research. And by ‘ _recent events’_ Harry meant being trapped in the 1940s with currently no way home and too much time on his hands. But tomatoes, tamatoes. He supposed.

Slughorn gave an impressed nod, now hammering Harry’s back in a way that Harry thought was meant to be comforting or to display the Professor’s appreciation of Harry’s strong will. Really it was just coming across as a violent attempt to save a very not choking Harry, the Muggle way.

“Of course, might I introduce you to someone special, Mr Evans?” Before Harry could protest, he was navigating further into the open floor. Away from the safety of the round tables, by an arm wrapped around his shoulders. They stopped beside a small group of people in a passionate debate over a spell Harry hadn’t caught the name of. 

Slughorn released Harry and carefully interrupted the only person who seemed to be quietly observing the argument. A tall gentleman fitted in formal Duelling robes, very unusual for a leisure event such as this. The man was striking in a way that made you look twice, maybe after glancing over him the first time and surprising yourself when glancing again. Harry was certainly caught off guard at the pure handsomeness the man presented, and he swore his heart didn’t flutter when golden honey eyes met his.

Harry almost didn’t catch the words leaving the man’s mouth, too focused on gaining control of his expression. He didn’t want to be gazing lost in the man’s eyes while he listened to the casual introduction, “Hello there, Horace here tells me you’re quite the Dueller? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Evans. Finnian Deering.” Harry immediately took Deering’s offered hand for a firm, quick shake, and was surprised when Deering held on a moment longer than the norm.

Slughorn went on obliviously, “Harry Evans is top of his class in Defense, Galatea herself goes on and on about how impressive the boy is. Harry, Finnian is a Duelling Professional. He holds two Masteries in Duelling and Defence, he is also the youngest Wizard yet to win the All-England Wizarding Duelling Competition at a mere 21 years old and has been mentioned by numerous News sources as a Hopeful for winning the Internation Duelling Competition next year. An impressive résumé and a student from our very own Slytherin House, no less!”

The reply forming on Harry’s lips was cut by the surprising burning sensation coming from his head. ‘ _Not my head_ ,’ Harry thought, pulling away from Deering’s hand to brush his fingertips to his forehead. ‘ _My scar. But that doesn’t make any sense, Voldemort doesn’t exist yet. Unless-‘_ Harry’s eyes immediately latched on to molten grey, probably closer now that Harry was on the hall floor, and the burning stopped. Harry couldn’t believe he had forgotten the staring. Riddle’s slight frown lifted to a satisfied smirk, a careful brow inched up his _stupid_ face, and a subtle turn of his head held clear instructions.

‘ _Come here._ ’

Merlin. Harry wanted to punch him.

Relaxing his hand, that at some point became fisted- _odd_. He turned and faced Deering once again with a charming smile and slight dip of his head to seal the deal, “That _is_ very impressive Mr Deering, I would love to hear all about it. It sounds fascinating, and you must have a diverse arsenal of spells.”

* * *

-§-

* * *

“He is blatantly ignoring me.”

Tom was arms crossed, staring daggers at the back of Evans’ head. The irritating Wizard beside Evans had been quietly talking with him all night, and it was grating on Tom’s immense patience. 

“Riddle, you haven’t spoken a word to each other all night. How is he ignoring you?” Lestrange was leaning against the buffet table, hand hovering in indecision over a plate of hor's d’ oeuvres. “Besides, I thought you implied that your talk didn’t go well? Why would he want to approach you if that’s the case?”

’ _That man could not_ possibly _still have anything interesting to talk about. How is Evans not bored out of his mind_?’

“Lestrange, do you ever pay attention?” Avery’s tone of disapproval had Alphard Black snickering into his glass, “Riddle clearly said it seemed promising and that it may take slightly longer than expected for the desired answer.”

’ _And why are they standing so close? That is_ unreasonable _; there are muffle charms for a reason_.’

“I wouldn’t be so quick to chastise, Avery. Weren’t you the one in charge of initial peace talks with Evans? How’s the bruising by the way?” Lestrange’s grin was vicious, and it was a wonder that people never spoke of the Lestrange Madness as often as they did the Black’s.

’ _Whatever he said was_ not _humourous enough to warrant your hand on his bicep, Evans._ ’

Lucretia Black was slapping Lestrange’s hand away from the platter and nudging him off the buffet table with a delicate furrow between her brows, “Enough you two. Rupert, please show a little more class, this is not the Common Room. Behave.” That shake of her head was almost motherly in its exasperation, ”Riddle, how can you stand to let them argue all the time? It is impossible to be around them when they get like this.” Her soft features cut into Tom’s path, effectively transferring his glare to her patient gaze and breaking Tom’s questionable inner commentary in the process. 

A sharp smile appeared for a moment before Tom’s face settled to his standard blank acknowledgement, “Lucretia dear, I ignore them. They know better than to inconvenience me with their squabbling.” Lestrange and Avery both stiffened and stopped bickering immediately, the 7th-year girl was intimidating when angered but could be easily appeased. Tom, in comparison, would not stop until the first sign of blood.

Lucretia sighed and turned to face Tom’s new little mystery, ”This boy, _Evans_?” Her eyes glanced over in question; she seemed to gather an answer and continued, ”Ah yes, the new child your year. He is speaking with Finnian Deering, not surprising if the rumours of Evans’ Duelling abilities ring true. Professor Slughorn is not all talk when it comes to members of the _SlugClub_ ;” The name fell from her mouth like a brick, she continued. ”It seems he has set Evans up well. Ignatius is somewhat close to the young Duelling Champion; the Prewetts have a long-standing relationship with the Deerings, shall I remind Ignatius of his responsibilities?” 

Tom turned his attention away from Harry Evans once more to grin charmingly at Lucretia. He held out his hand for hers, and when she hesitantly gave in, he placed a grateful kiss to her knuckles. She blushed a delicate pink as he replied, ”What a marvellous idea, Lucretia. Please do tell your fiancée to give you a proper introduction.”

Tom watched keenly as Lucretia broke his hold and drifted towards a small group of Gryffindors. Soon enough, she was holding Ignatius Prewett’s arm and gently interrupting Evans and Deering’s conversation. Evans exchanged pleasantries before he slowly started slipping away from the trio, glass in hand as he backed off and wandered. He spoke a few words graciously with whoever he came across, and for a moment, Tom dared to believe Evans was enjoying the evening mingling with guests. Tom almost snorted out loud when he saw Evans’ blatant b-line towards the exit. 

And if Tom Marvolo Riddle knew _anything_ , it was how to spot and take advantage of an _opportunity_.

Tom barely threw out an ”I’m leaving. Do not follow,” over his shoulder before he was walking with sure steps to the door, fully intending to hunt Evans down and push him into a corner. He would not be escaping Tom so quickly this time. Tom wanted-no. _Needed_ answers. When he stepped out into the halls of Hogwarts, he was expecting to find Evans halfway or more to the dorms. Instead, Tom stepped out and almost immediately _into_ Evans _._

It was startling, but Tom was more impressed with his unbelievable luck. Evans had been staring head down at the floor, back to the door. Tom manoeuvred around him after hearing the mumbled apology that Evans rapidly appeared to regret after seeing to whom he was apologising. Tom almost felt offended as he replied, ”Trying to slip out unnoticed, Evans? My, that is awfully rude. At least say goodbye.”

“ _Riddle_? Merlin, what is wrong with you? Did you follow me out here?” Evans stared askance at Tom. It was laughable, indeed, because of course, Tom had followed him out. Why else would Tom leave and miss out on such a valuable political attendance this evening, if not for Harry Evans?

That made Tom pause. Evans was means for concern, yes, with the knowledge of Tom’s search for the Chamber and Evans’ magical talents. To put _Evans_ above the game, charming and gaining the attention of prominent and higher authorities? That was not like Tom; he was starting to wonder if his curiosity and want of the other was becoming a hindrance. 

Tom quickly brushed those thoughts aside, ‘ _He will not be a hindrance once he joins me_.’

”Yes,” Tom held Evans’ arm and walked further from the door, dragging the flabbergasted and struggling student into an off corridor nearby Slughorn's office, not frequently visited in this part of the dungeons. ”How do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?” The smile on Tom’s face was surely nothing sweet, and the grip on Evans’ arm must have been uncomfortable, but Evans still scoffed unbothered.

”It’s basic information to anyone with _Hogwarts: A History_ , Riddle. Not to mention a Ravenclaw had asked Professor Binns about it, and he gave out a very theatrical response.” Tom had not heard of _Hogwarts: A History._ How _curious_...Tom was certain he had read everything the various Professors had listed each year and then some. He filed that away for later inspection.

”And what are _your_ interests in the Chamber?” Evans’ impossibly green eyes widened, Tom could nearly see the gears working in his brain.

_When had they gotten so close?_

Evans stepped back, meeting an empty painting behind him. Tom was contemplating the unusual disappointment he felt with the renewed distance as Evans quickly gained control of his expression once more. Evans continued with an air of nonchalance and a coy smile. Tom would be inclined to believe it if he had not just witnessed its careful construction.

”I read that the Founders each had a magical being trusted to protect the children of the castle. And along with the children, they were to preserve a hideaway of some kind. A magical room or rooms _or Chamber_ intended to be a private quarter for the Founder themselves, maybe for an heir?” Evans hesitated before his eyes steeled with determination. ”Supposedly Salazar Slytherin’s hideaway is an infamous Chamber. One that holds a vast library of magical literature, a private collection of writings, and a mighty Basilisk. But it can only be opened by a Parselmouth. I wanted a chance to view this Library.”

So Evans was using Tom’s interest in his magical abilities for Tom’s Parseltongue abilities. Very smart, but not near enough an even trade. Evans was asking Tom for the sun and the moon, Tom just wanted Evans’ undying loyalty.

Maybe it was not so extreme, but Tom was insulted that Evans felt he had such a high standing in Tom’s priorities.

Which Evans _did not_.

_Clearly_.

Tom gave a deceiving melancholy smile, ”I see...well the Chamber does not exist Evans. So it is hardly fair of you to use that as acceptance for joining my club this evening.”

Evans’ lips curled further with hungry confidence, and he stepped forward into Tom’s space once again. ”Ah, but Riddle? When have we been known to play fair? Besides, that should be even more a reason for you to jump on my offer. If there is no Chamber to find, then the Vow is null. I’ll still attend your silly club meeting tonight, and you’ll have gotten the lucky end of the stick. No harm. No foul.”

_Merlin_. Tom wanted nothing more than to rip into Evans’ mind. Tear it open piece by piece, uncover every little secret, see all the slight nuances that made him tick. That gave him such conviction in the Chamber. Until Evans had tears bleeding from his eyes. Until he was stumbling and holding himself up with Tom’s support—

Tom had to blink to centre his thoughts once again. Evans always sent him down some dangerous paths.

And how infuriating that everything Evans said was true. If Tom didn’t believe the Chamber existed, this was an easy win. A simple way to get what he wants. It was almost child’s play, Evans was throwing him a bone.

But that was not the case, because Tom believed more than anything that the Chamber was real. There was no doubt in his mind that it existed and that he was close to uncovering its whereabouts. Hissing at random walls during his Perfect Patrols have only made the task easier, he just needed to search the remaining third and second floor.

”It would be foolish of me to go around and make a Vow with just anyone Evans. You are still a stranger to this school, even with your aptness at making friends with the other Houses. Allow me to... _court_ after your friendship. If you will? In fact, that is _precisely_ what I’ll do.” A dark look passed Tom’s eyes as his hand reached up and a finger curled to press softly at Evans’ chin. Panicked confusion flickered on Evans’ face when Tom gently tilted the boy’s head up, their shared eye contact burning, stroking satisfied flames in Tom as he saw Evans’ jaw clench going completely stiff in suspense. ”In time I’ll surely change your mind—”

A scream pierced through the halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling you'll all hate that ending though-OOPS.  
> -  
> Tom, glaring daggers at Harry and Deering: How dare you make Harry have such an enjoyable time.
> 
> Harry: Fuck fuck fuck this guy is hot-hot, but my fucking scar is on fire. How the bloody hell can I get out of here??? I want to go lay down.
> 
> Lucretia: Have you heard about our Lord and Saviour: Tom Riddle?
> 
> Harry and Tom: Perfect.  
> -  
> Also who else is peepin the tag edit? Dun dun dunnnn  
> And did we hate the POV switch or was it okay?


	4. Riddle's creepy plots of friendship could fuck off until tomorrow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's leave a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is awkward. I'm six months and twenty-five days late, and I don't even have a Starbucks coffee. 
> 
> Hi everyone! I'm sorry I just randomly decided to stop updating after being somewhat consistent with my posting schedule. It was genuinely not my intention to go this long without adding Chapter Four. In my defence, the end of last year got very busy for me with starting a new job, travelling abroad, and my Grandmother falling ill. 
> 
> I had been sitting on most of this chapter for so long because I couldn't will myself to write this damn action scene?? Oof pals, it was rough. I did start some other works on the side this year though so maybe you kept yourselves busy with those? We did finally make this one though! I also wanted to say a huge thanks to hitting 1k+ kudos while I was dead and to all the lovely comments you left. Those were what kept pushing me to finish this and get it out to you! 
> 
> Okay okay, with all that out of the way, please enjoy this chapter! (Sorry it's a little short, but I promise you won't have to wait six months for the next update if that's any consolation.)
> 
> Edit: Someone on FF mentioned the fight scene seemed to be short/vague! I just wanted to say that it was written this way on purpose. As I mentioned above, I struggled with the action scene, and I'd rather not force myself to make it perfect when my goal with this fic is to keep it fun and easy for me to write. I've never written action before!

Harry rounded the corner into the main hallway, away from Riddle's reach, wand out and at the ready before he had even thought to take another breath. The scream— _screams,_ were sounding from the party. Behind him, Riddle was muttering just loud enough for Harry to discern something along the lines of,

"-hears screaming they run in the opposite direction—

Slytherins are known to value _self_ -preservation—

 _Evans, you_ —"

And if Harry didn't have his little saving people thing. He would have taken an instant to mention that Riddle _wasn't required to follow him, and he could kindly_ fuck off _._

Guests and students were flooding out of Slughorn's office. Brilliant flashes of spell-fire spilt onto the castle walls, the almost blinding lights a stark contrast to the dimly lit candles and pumpkins floating in the hall. The no-doubt ugly words and thoughts used to cast a vivid kaleidoscope of curses and all Harry could feel for a split moment was awe.

Silent alarms rang in and at his thoughts, but Harry's concerns were quickly pushed aside by far more pressing matters.

_Like the apparent attack happening in the office turned party hall._

Cramming his way into a room that people were struggling to flee was harder than he anticipated. People running for their lives are stronger than they appear, the adrenaline and terror vicious motivators, and parting them in that state proved problematic. If anything, Harry should have expected this. He's lived with on and off adrenaline and fear all his life. Hell, he could be a panic whisperer _— A_ Panic _tongue_.

"All Samhain guests please work your way towards the Great Hall. Those unfamiliar with the Castle, partner with someone who is. All students under 5th-year go to your Common Rooms and locate your Head of House."

Harry paused, Riddle apparently had time to transfigure a step to tower above the crowd while Harry was pushed and shoved further from the door. _As if the berk wasn't tall enough as is._

Riddle's help was unexpected, though. His smooth voice carried effortlessly, and Harry wondered if it was thanks to the support of a _Sonorous_ or if his voice naturally captured attention so quickly. Riddle flawlessly shifted into a pragmatic Prefect. He was directing the confused, displaying authoritative concern and ordering Gryffindor students to notify Headmaster Dippet and Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore. It was _almost_ _irritating_ and would be if it weren't for the fact that it was _incredibly_ _useful_. 

The hysterical stampede tipped dramatically to an orderly, if hurried, withdrawal. Harry would never admit this to anyone, but he was slightly _impressed_. And at the notion of respecting anything Childmort, of all people, did...Harry quickly bashed that thought back to the Hell from which it arose. There was no doubt Riddle was only using this as another personal gain of some sort. Harry can hear it now, the reverent whispers of brave Tom Riddle keeping his cool and demanding calm, careful safety in times of calamity. A natural-born leader. Someone to follow. Someone to _admire_. 

Harry couldn't help but wonder where it all went wrong.

But he wasn't going to start complaining about the child Dark Lord's affinity to commanding _now_. 

As soon as he could, he slipped back into the hall. 

Immediately Harry was low to the floor; the attackers were aiming high at guests, Professors, and older students brave enough to fight back alike. It almost seemed careless, the way they were throwing curses and hexes at anything and everything, but their motives were clear. The attack wasn't just a random statement or declaration; it wasn't _just_ that at all. They had every intention of taking as many people as possible out with them. There was a hard set to their jaws, a vindictive glare in the iron focus of their eyes. Harry was sure then that these attackers had little to no expectation of leaving alive.

The intruders destroyed everything in sight, some going out of their way to score a symbol onto the castle stone. It wasn't familiar to Harry, an odd geometric design, a very fancy triangular something or other. Tables had flipped on their sides in an attempt for reliable, non-magical draining coverage. From what Harry could see, there were ten main attackers, and clearly, they were strong enough to cause an issue for a room filled with adult wizards and witches. 

He spotted a rogue spell headed towards younger year with their back turned; Harry rapidly cast a _Protego_. It's strength a bit overpowered, knocking the nearest table back a few paces and startling three or four others using it as a barricade. They quickly took advantage of the shield and made swift ground to the exit. To his left, Harry swore he heard someone mutter " _cowards_ " even over all the commotion, but by the time he turned his head away from the safely retreating backs of the students, no one was there. 

In the commotion, one of the intruders started ranting in hysterics, but Harry could only make out bits and pieces of what they were yelling as he carefully crept towards them.

"YOU'RE FOOLS— 

EVEN HOGWARTS— 

NO ONE IS SAFE— 

DUMBLEDORE CAN'T PROTECT YOU FOR—."

The hysterical man was holding his own well and uncomfortably reminded Harry of Bellatrix Lestrange from the pensive memories of the trial for Neville's parents. But his backside was wide open, and Harry had the element of surprise. Harry sent a well-aimed _Expelliarmus_ and _Stupefy_ to the centre of the man's back; his wand went flying, and he went down ungracefully, stiff as a log. It was almost disappointing that Harry was unable to hear the satisfying sound of the intruder hitting the floor over all the turmoil. 

The spells aimed at the man from Hogwarts staff flew over his now floored body, accidentally striking others fighting in the room. Harry winced a bit at that miscalculation, but at least one threat was downed. Hopefully, everyone would recover quickly under Madam Klatskin's care as soon as the danger was neutralised.

During a cursory glance to locate a new target, Harry's eyes met steel. Riddle was crouched low behind a flipped buffet table and watching Harry with an intensity he didn't think was appropriate for the situation they were in. Riddle must have finished whatever he was doing in the halls and came back to help. Harry couldn't stop the snort and upturn of his lips at the thought.

Tom Riddle. Lord Childmort. Coming back to _help_.

Yeah right.

Riddle's eyes narrowed; maybe Harry was too apparent with his thoughts. Harry quickly glanced away and noticed another struggle happening on the other end of the room; he took the blessing for what it was and escaped Riddle's gaze to lend a hand.

As Harry lifted his wand for another distant takedown, a spell flew over his shoulder causing him to flinch and topple over in surprise. He scrambled to turn himself towards the attacker and didn't spot anyone immediately behind him or taking advantage. For a moment, Harry expected the use of a _Disillusionment_ charm, but the sound of carried laughter brought his focus back to Riddle. 

Riddle, who was somehow closer now and clearly not taking this attack seriously if he was finding time to distract Harry. With a glare for good measure, Harry refocused his attention on the intruder he'd meant to stop, only to see them cursed with a full-body bind on the floor.

"Boo," Harry startled again, and Riddle grabbed his shoulder to keep him falling. The feeling of something like an egg cracking over Harry's skull slid down his body, and he watched as Riddle quickly disappeared from view. Harry only knew Riddle was still there from the steady pressure on his shoulder. And Harry wanted nothing more than _to cut_ _Riddle's hand right off_.

"Riddle, what do you think you're playing at? This is serious; people are attacking the Castle." Harry's whispers sounded more like yells in their little solace behind a large transfigured slab of stone that now jutted out of the floor, which was ridiculous because surely in this cacophony of noises this insignificant conversation couldn't possibly be as loud as it felt.

"Well, I could not just leave my new friend to protect everyone and play hero alone now could I?"

"You aimed for me and missed. I doubt you'll be much use at that rate."

"Evans, who do you think cast the _Petrificus Totalus_ at that fool? I was not aiming for you. I was fulfilling my duty as a Prefect and helping take down the enemy." Riddle's voice sounded innocent, too innocent.

Harry scoffed, "And you just happened to aim right beside my head accidentally?"

"Of course not."

"Right, _of course not_."

Riddle's hand left Harry's shoulder, and he could hear careful steps backing away and the sound of mirth in Riddle's voice, "Yes, _of course not_ , it was entirely on purpose."

Harry aimed a stinging hex in what he hoped was Riddle's general direction and felt immense satisfaction when he heard a hushed, strained, and annoyed, " _Evans_."

With a sudden renewed bolt of energy and a slight grin, Harry crept around still under the _Disillusionment_ charm helping out any student he saw that could use more assistance getting away. Harry grew more concerned as the fights continued, and there was still no sign of his friends. He swore he passed Celina out of the corner of his eye and attempted to find her again, but it quickly became a lost cause. He just hoped they had all made it out and back to their dormitories.

Harry did catch the sight of Finnian Deering putting that All-England Duelling Champion title to use and single-handedly taking down two intruders. Harry was quick to stop an attack a third intruder had attempted while Deering had his back turned. He undid the disillusion and sent a _Bombarda_ in hopes of getting more distance between them. Deering immediately sprung to action and assisted Harry with taking them out.

It didn't take much longer until all was eerily silent as the remaining guests in the hall realised no other attacks were happening. As the enemies were tallied up and pilled together in wait of Auror's, Harry felt a chill creep up his spine.

They had only counted nine attackers. But Harry was sure there had been ten.

One couldn't possibly have gotten away. But Harry supposed that they very much could have, it wouldn't take more than a quick transfiguring of their battle robes and a careful mask of fear while rushing to the door in the chaos. The idea of some insane man wandering the hidden halls of the castle put Harry in an unease he hadn't felt since he was thirteen had believed Sirius was his parents' betrayer. He didn't think he'd ever have to go through that feeling again. 

And Harry thought dorming with Childmort was bad.

The Professors had gathered in a small circle, Dumbledore and Dippet had only just arrived and were being filled in on what had occurred. In hushed grave tones, the name _Grindelwald_ repeatedly found itself mentioned. Harry felt compelled to assure them that all would be fine, Dumbledore would rise and become the great defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald.

And yet, glancing at Dumbledore now one wouldn't possibly assume such. Harry was sure he'd never seen his future Headmaster look older than he did now, even in the 90s Dumbledore had a bright burning life to him that was decidedly snuffed out here. Harry was curious, but he hadn't attempted to get close to Dumbledore since appearing in this time out of fear of meddling with the timeline.

But the concern over the missing tenth attacker had to take precedence, "Wasn't there ten intruders?" A few professors had paused their quiet concerned whispers and turned to Harry in confusion. Auror's were finally trickling their way into the room. With no response, he continued.

"When I came back to the party to help, I had counted ten distinct attackers. There's only nine, so one must be missing."

"Surely, Mr Evans, my boy, you must have miscounted! The attacks have stopped, and there are no suspicious characters left in sight. Though do not fret, the Auror's will be sure to do a full sweep of the castle to put our minds at ease!" Slughorn nodded in what he must have thought was an assuring manner, but with the way he kept dabbing sweat off with a handkerchief and the pained look in his eyes, it was anything but.

Riddle appeared out of nowhere and interrupted with a deliberate clearing of his throat, "I believe Evans, Professor. I had also counted ten attackers."

Harry whipped around in shock, staring at Riddle as though he had suddenly sprouted a whole new head, then the shock quickly honed into somewhat grateful suspicion.

Merlin, now Harry was feeling grateful towards Tom Riddle.

 _Just strike me where I stand. End my misery_. 

"And I'm sure the Auror's will get to the bottom of everything if that's the case." The other Professors had gone back to their tense chatting, happy to let Slughorn respond to their concerns. Nothing truly changes, it seems. Adults will ignore all possible signs of danger until it's too late. Be that now in the 40s or in Harry's time in the 90s.

"In a more pleasant discussion, that was indeed impressive Duelling on your parts, Mr Evans and Mr Riddle!" Slughorn's awkward chortles echoed through the room.

"Harry! I didn't get a chance to thank you for stopping that curse. You Duelled very well, and I believe I saw you take down one that was even giving your Professors some trouble. Horace was not exaggerating when discussing your abilities early this evening." Deering had wrapped up a conversation with an Auror before he joined in and rested a hand on Harry's bicep.

"If you are interested in pursuing a career in Duelling, I would be more than happy to offer you private lessons over the summer or after you graduate."

A flustered reply was about to leave Harry's lips when Riddle moved closer to their side, "I'm so sorry to interrupt, Mr Deering. But really you should get checked at St. Mungos for any injuries or lingering curses. Evans and I should also visit the Matron for those same reasons. If you'll excuse us."

"Right, of course, I'll be in touch via Owl, Harry. If that's alright?" Riddle was quickly dragging Harry away, and no matter how discreetly hard Harry tugged, Riddle would not release him.

"That's fine, Mr Deering! Speak with you then!" Harry called out over his shoulder.

As they left the remains of the party and walked back into the hall, Harry was quick to shove Riddle violently away from him.

"Merlin, Riddle, get off of me. I spent all afternoon in the damn Hospital Wing thanks to _your_ goons, and I'm not going back. I'm fine."

"Wait, Evans—"

Harry started walking away from Riddle like the devil was on his heels. As far as Harry was concerned, the devil _was_ on his heels. He thought he heard vague noises of arguments being thrown at his back, but another sound of relieved yelling overpowered it. A glance over his shoulder showed Riddle surrounded by his lackeys, and all seemed relieved their _Lord_ was safe.

Harry blew out a grateful sigh, his shoulders collapsing like a balloon with no air, and continued to the dormitories. He still hadn't fully processed what occurred in the hallway Riddle had dragged him to earlier in the evening. His adrenalin was still soaring from the fighting, and Harry didn't think he was ready to face those thoughts now that the intrusion wasn't there distracting them. He had no energy left to deal with whatever the hell Tom Riddle was up to.

Riddle's creepy plots of friendship could fuck off until tomorrow.

Finally, with a moment to think, Harry found himself surprised that he hadn't heard of such a damning and bold attack on Hogwarts. He was shocked he hadn't read it in a history book-not that he tried to learn or read much before his time travel fiasco-or heard about it from a Professor- or even Hermione, really. 

No, Hogwarts had only ever portrayed itself as the safest place in the Wizarding World, a shelter for any child in need, it was a wonder to what else Hogwarts was hiding in her history. Though the lack of deaths on Hogwarts' side and small enough number of injuries could have made it easy to cover-up as time moved on, as Grindelwald became defeated, as they turned towards a new Headmaster, a beacon of light with the power to disarm a Dark Lord.

Was it healing? Or avoidance?

Harry didn't feel comfortable with the implications of these thoughts. And wasn't that just hypocritical? 

There was no healing in this discomfort, only avoidance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my way of writing Tom and Harry has changed a bit, so don't be alarmed if they act a little different!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a loose plan for this. I kind of just want to have fun with it and not stress out. It's not beta'd, but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Scream at me on Tumblr: [@TomarryHereWeGoAgain](https://tomarryherewegoagain.tumblr.com)  
> Or catch me lurking in the [Tomarry Discord!](https://discordapp.com/invite/kPFavxE)
> 
> The '§' is Parseltongue. Or when I'm feeling wild '-§-' that means a POV switch.


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